


Dead by Daylight X Reader One Shots

by dweetwise



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Improper use of shock therapy, Lingerie, Medical Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Praise Kink, Reunions, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Smut, Strip Poker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25397563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dweetwise/pseuds/dweetwise
Summary: Drabbles and one shots that I felt were too short for their own fics.Pairings, ratings and reader's gender (where applicable) will be in the chapter title and author's notes.The underage warning is purely for chapter 5 (Susie).
Relationships: Ace Visconti/Reader, Bill Overbeck/Reader, Claudette Morel/Reader, David King (Dead by Daylight)/Reader, Felix Richter/Reader, Herman Carter | The Doctor/Reader, Max Thompson Jr. | The Hillbilly/You, Michael Myers/Reader, Philip Ojomo | The Wraith/Reader, Steve Harrington/Reader, Susie (Dead by Daylight)/Reader, Zarina Kassir/Reader
Comments: 39
Kudos: 296





	1. David X reader: Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> requests are currently closed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for a tumblr prompt of david on reader's birthday

David is in the middle of re-wrapping the bandages on his hands when he hears the unmistakable off-key tune of Nea starting to belt out “Happy Birthday”. David groans and resists smacking his head against a nearby tree as some of the others join in on the singing; not another bloody birthday celebration!

David used to love birthday parties. But in the realm, where there’s no meaningful gifts, no real food, and no booze? It just reminds him of what he’s missing. Not to mention it’s nearly impossible to keep track of time in the fog, and even though Dwight tries to keep a calendar, periodically announcing important dates like Christmas, David sees it for what it is; a desperate attempt to keep the others’ spirits high.

He reluctantly joins the commotion to humor the others, seeing as even antisocial Jake and grumpy Bill are doing the same. He may not agree with the dumb traditions but he’s not gonna be the one to ruin it for everyone else. He only wishes someone would have warned him so he could have conveniently _not been here_ right now.

David watches as Claudette appears from the woods with Meg in tow, holding an absolute abomination of a cake, the duo apparently having combined several escape cakes to a monstrosity with more layers than gravity should allow.

David is in the middle of an indulgent daydream about punching the dumb cake to pieces, when Claudette unexpectedly places the cake in front of… _you_. He stares at your embarrassed but smiling face, clearly not having expected this kind of spectacle, and feels all his previous irritation fade. When he glances around and sees a few people start pulling out makeshift gifts, his heart sinks. Why didn’t he realize sooner?

You’ve been having this flirty back-and-forth for weeks. David has tried to be patient, doing his best not to rush things or scare you off, but you’re either oblivious as all hell or you only see him as a friend. This could have been his chance to make a move but now, he doesn’t even have a gift and is going to look like a total prick. _Fuck_!

Yui urges you to blow out the single candle. “Don’t forget to make a wish!” she adds with a wink. David’s heart skips a beat as you glance at him for a split second before blowing out the flame. Was that just his imagination?

Nobody else seems to notice, as the others cheer and Steve throws handfuls of party streamers on you, Tapp yelling at him to save them for trials. The detective is not amused by the “Live a little, pops!” the teen in a sailor costume quips at him in retaliation.

David watches the others give you gifts. Kate has made you a flower crown and places it on your head. Ace gives you one of his five million baseball caps, claiming this one’s somehow “extra lucky”. Jane gifts you a charm with an owl, while Jeff hands you a sketch he did of you. Laurie gives you a shiv, and he watches your face scrunch up in confusion before you decide not to question it. Jake hands you a feather and again, you know to just roll with it. Feng gets you an actual gag gift in the form of a fucking _tire_ , rolling it into camp after having nicked it from Autohaven. Quentin surprises everyone by dropping a huge pile of green medkits into your lap. Dwight stutters and gives you a handmade necklace, having threaded glass and crystal beads on some twine. David sees you smile brightly and put the necklace on and he can’t help but glare at Dwight and his stupidly thoughtful gift.

When nobody else is stepping forward, Meg hands you an entire commodious toolbox filled with various offerings, claiming “This one’s from all of us!”. David knows for sure it’s just her and Claudette’s gift, and she’s trying to save his and the others’ ass. He pretends not to notice your smile falter in disappointment and how you pointedly don’t look his way when you thank all your friends for their gifts.

When Jane starts cutting the cake, David braces himself and joins in even though he knows it will be terrible; this is the _least_ he can do for you. There’s only five of you brave enough to subject yourselves to the cake and like all of the Entity’s pathetic imitations of food, it tastes like air with a side of cardboard. You all pretend to enjoy it as you thank Claudette for putting it together.

After the others begin to scatter and leave you to sort your pile of gifts, David makes his move. “Come with me for a sec, yeah?”

* * *

“Sorry I didn’t get ya nothin’,” David says when you’re out of earshot from the camp.

“It’s okay, I never expected you guys to go through this much trouble—” you start.

“‘S not okay–I would’a given ya somethin’. I just didn’t know.”

“Well, either way. It’s fine.”

David feels like his chest is gonna burst. He _needs_ you to understand that he cares. Subtlety has never been his strong suit, so… fuck it.

“Maybe I can still give ya somethin’.” At your confused head tilt, he puffs up his chest and continues: “Look, I dun mean ta sound full of meself—”

“But that’s like 90% of your personality,” you grin, elbowing him playfully. David snorts.

“Alright, ya got a point. ‘Cuz I was gonna say _I_ could be ya gift.”

Your playful smile fades and you look at him warily. But at least you’re not rejecting him? Right? David is not the best at social cues so he decides to just go for it, bridging the distance between you and cupping your cheek (gently, he reminds himself) with one hand while the other cards through your hair, careful not to ruin the flower crown.

When you don’t push him away, he leans down to kiss you. He tries _so_ hard to be gentle, he really does, but when you sigh and melt into the slow kiss, a part of his self-restraint dies. He unconsciously tightens the hand in your hair, swallowing your surprised gasp and unable to resist adding some tongue to the kiss, groaning into your mouth—

David mentally slaps himself, breaking away and putting some distance between you, both of you panting from the unexpected heat of the kiss.

“Happy birthday?” David says, cringing a bit from having gotten carried away. So much for taking it slow.

“Thank you,” you mumble and he breathes a sigh of relief, thankful he didn’t cross any boundaries. Then, he’s taken completely off guard when you wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him back against you. “Now give me the rest of my gift,” you whisper against his lips.

David barks out a laugh that gets half-muffled by your mouth, before continuing the kiss, this time with unrestrained enthusiasm.


	2. Ace X f!reader (NSFW): Lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> super short drabble for a tumblr prompt of some nsfw ace x reader ft. lingerie

Ace already _knows_ why you’ve sneaked him out into the woods away from prying eyes. But when your overcoat falls off and he sees you’re wearing nothing but a sheer babydoll and lacy panties underneath, the witty comment dies on his tongue while he does a double take.

A heartbeat later, he recovers from the shock, lazy grin spreading across his face. “Aw, sweetheart,” he coos, pulling you closer by your waist. “All this, for little old me? You spoil me.”

He’s far from shy as he guides you to straddle his lap, eager hands slipping under the fabric. Hungry eyes look up at you while his hands roam all over, smoothing down your sides, squeezing your breasts over the garment, running a finger down the edge of the panties, while you melt under his touch.

You can feel his rapidly hardening cock through his pants, pressing against your thigh. When you grind down on him, his chuckle sounds slightly out of breath.

“Impatient, aren’t you doll?” he teases and starts unbuckling his belt, latching on to your nipple and teasing the nub with his teeth through the flimsy cloth.

He pulls the already soaked fabric of your panties to the side while his cock springs free from his pants.

“Now, why don’t you sit on daddy’s dick and give a nice little show?”


	3. Bill X f!reader (NSFW): Lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another short lingerie drabble for tumblr, this time with bill!

When you catch Bill alone, it’s unsurprisingly during one of his smoke breaks. Upon spotting you in nothing but the lingerie, his eyes go wide in shock and his cigarette falls out of his slack mouth. You approach, swaying your hips and adjusting the garter belt, while he just stares dumbfounded.

“Well? What do you think?” you probe for more of a reaction, doing a little twirl and arching your back to highlight your ass spilling out of the thong and your breasts pushing up over the corset.

“Sweet baby Jesus,” Bill mutters in awe as his fingers twitch, wanting to touch. “You look…” he eyes the sexy outfit up and down and seems to be searching for words. “…Stunning,” Bill finally breathes, hands hesitantly settling on your hips, as though he still can’t believe this is real.

He finally looks up to meet your gaze, barely contained fire burning in his eyes as he waits for your permission.

“Take me,” your command is a breathless whisper in his ear. He wastes no time, yanking you off your feet and throwing you on the ground.

Your thong is pulled down just enough for him to get access as he buries his face between your legs, letting out a groan as he tastes you. His hands grab onto your waist, cinched from the corset, and it seems to drive him wild as he starts eating you out with enthusiasm, beard roughly scratching against your thighs from his eagerness.


	4. Doctor X reader (NSFW): Shock Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone requested nsfw of doc x a reader who enjoys getting shocked

While in the Fog, Herman has seen all kinds of reactions from his ~~victims~~ patients when administering his shock therapy. Some seem to react more strongly than others, and afterward, trying to keep up his meticulous research protocol even in the realm, he writes down his observations.

**Detective tripped on the window when shock timed correctly. Asian hobo still resists screaming, but pulled out a chunk of his own hair in madness.**

When he sees a new survivor in the trial, he's already creating a new mental file in his head, eager to ~~torture~~ experiment. He goes to shock you and you— _moan_?

Well. You know what they say about science. Repeat the experiment to confirm hypothesis.

* * *

So he may have gotten a bit carried away, shocking you for the 27th time in a row, while you just lean against the generator and let out the most beautiful tortured moans, screams and sobs. The gens pop and the survivor roaches come crawling in, trying to drag you out and body block. Herman keeps shocking, keeping you quivering and rooted in place, and eventually he watches his new favorite subject, along with the stubborn Brit who apparently refuses to leave his new comrade at his mercy, die to endgame.

**New subject gets aroused by shock and seems to feel more pleasure than pain. Possibly masochistic in nature. Testing with more potent charge recommended.**

* * *

The next trial he sees you, he’s surprised you seek him out. 

“Please,” you say, looking at him with desperation in your eyes, like a junkie trying to get their fix. Seeing you beg so prettily, he gets more than just a murder boner and a million more “experiment” ideas flood his brain.

He takes you to the basement and soon enough your body is singing for him again. It’s different now that he can touch you, feeling the electricity coursing over your quivering skin. He only manages to hike up your shirt, sending a couple of weak jolts through your nipples, before he hears footsteps above the basement.

“You should join me at Léry’s for more extensive treatment,” he tells your trembling form before hoisting you up on a hook, chest still on display for your annoying comrades to find. “Unlike here, there’s no _vermin_ problem.”

His notes after the trial are scrawled messily due to his excitement: 

_**Pa** t **ie** **nt is** **extre** **m** **ely re** **cepti** **ve** **to** **treatm** **en** **t.** **Further tests required to conclude whether orgasm is possible.** _

* * *

Not even two trials later, Herman finds you in his office upon returning to the hospital. You look nervous and meek, but the fact that you’re here tells him everything he needs to know. 

“Let’s begin, pet,” he commands and is satisfied with the way it makes you shudder.

Not even ten minutes later, you’re spread out naked on the examination table while he’s still fully clothed, clipboard in hand.

**Strong external reactions: nipple, lips, thigh, earlobe. Moving to internal exa**

He looks up from his notes, pen halting mid-sentence as he sees you spread yourself lewdly for him. He grips the clipboard tighter, but when you start begging again, sobbing beautifully and desperate for release, the pen and notes clatter to the floor as he hurries to unbuckle his belt.

He manhandles you as he pleases, moving you up and down on his cock while sending shocks up your spine, taking in each and every scream you let out. He doesn’t really care if you come or not, as this isn’t part of the experiment, but sure enough, soon you’re squeezing down on him and he can’t resist putting a hand on your sex and shocking and relishing in the way you _wail_ as you reach your peak.

After he’s finished and gotten dressed while you’re still a trembling, panting and sweaty mess, he grabs the clipboard again and you look up, confused. 

“What? You would not leave an experiment unfinished, would you?” he chuckles darkly, slipping a finger inside you and sending a jolt through your core. When you moan brokenly from overstimulation and spread your shaking legs once more, he lets out a gleeful giggle, a sadistic glint lighting up his eyes.


	5. Susie X m!reader (NSFW): Blowjob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nsfw request of susie blowing a shy reader boyfriend

When you're making out with Susie and she nervously asks if she can give you a blowjob, you both become stuttering, blushing messes. You know you were her first and she's never given oral before, and it surprises and excites you that she'd want to try.

“Y-yeah, of course it’s okay… I mean if you want to!” you try to encourage without pressuring her. She tells you she's really insecure about her braces, scared that it’s not going to feel good for you. You promise her that you’ll tell her if it becomes uncomfortable.

It’s not like you haven’t had sex before, so she doesn’t really have a reason to be nervous, but her hands are still shaking as she unzips your pants. She just stares at your dick for a while, as if intimidated.

When she finally gets going, it's clear she doesn’t really have any idea of what she’s doing, only trying to imitate stuff she’s seen in porn. She ends up going too hard too fast, teeth scraping against your head as she chokes a bit on the length. You’re nervous to stop her, scared you’ll hurt her feelings, but when she just keeps going and you wince from the slight sting, you coax her up with a gentle “Slow down”.

“I’m sorry, I fucked it up, I should know how to do this—” she’s already apologizing. You assure her that she’s amazing for even wanting to try, and ask if she’s okay with continuing if you give her some advice.

She’s much more gentle the second time around, covering her teeth with her lips while she slowly suckles on the head. Your breath hitches at the sensation and a flush spreads up your neck as she looks up at you curiously, mouth stuffed with cock.

She experimentally circles the tip with her tongue and you moan from the sudden pleasure. Emboldened by your reaction, she sinks down further, taking more of you into her mouth before moving back up. It’s good, but kind of sloppy, so you swallow nervously and croak out “Try to squeeze your lips together”.

She does as requested, and _oh_. It’s perfect, and your mouth falls open as you watch her head bob on your dick.

You reach a shaking hand to card gently in her pink hair, hesitantly guiding her to focus on the tip. She looks so good, eyes closing in concentration and a blush covering her cheeks from the effort. 

“It’s so good, baby,” you breathe, not usually confident enough for dirty talk but the arousal is quickly making your insecurities fade into the background. She moans a little from the praise and the sound makes your dick twitch in her mouth.

You teeter closer and closer to the edge, but her pace starts slowing and her motions become sloppier. 

“S-susie?” you ask hesitantly. She lets your dick fall from her mouth. 

“I’m sorry, my neck hurts, I really wanted to make you come but I can’t keep it up—” she explains, looking so heartbroken just from not being able to make you cum. 

“Hey, shh, it’s okay, you were great,” you reassure, pulling her into a hug and trying not to think about your dick still being out and digging into her hoodie.

The hug turns into a make-out session and soon she’s eagerly grinding down on your dick, and the initial awkwardness is last thing on your mind as she starts pulling down her leggins.


	6. Claudette X reader: Hugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt of claudette and hugs <3 can be read as platonic, but i wrote it with feels in mind.

At the sound of laughter, you lift you head up from arranging your new offerings. You see Yui, Kate and Feng, giggling and showing off their new outfits to each other. Feng does a little twirl, ears from the bunny hoodie flapping from the movement, while Yui flexes and shows off her muscles in the neon yellow crop top and Kate rearranges the flower in her hair. The new looks suit them all, and you smile at seeing the girls so pleased with their new clothes.

There’s a small gasp next to you and you turn your head to look at Claudette, staring at the trio with adoration in her eyes.

“What’s up, Claud?” you prod curiously. Claudette’s eyes widen and meet yours, embarrassed at having been caught gushing.

“T-they just look so nice,” she says, clasping her hands in her lap and looking down at the ground. “Feng’s hoodie is really cute. I wish I was pretty enough to pull off something like that,” she says with a sad smile.

Oh no. You’re not having any of that, and your arms are around her shoulders before you even realize what you’re doing.

“You’d look _adorable_ in a bunny hoodie,” you assure her, pulling her against you in a hug. “Or crop top, or—anything, really. I, uh, I think you’re really pretty,” you finish lamely, resting your cheek on the top of her head so she doesn’t see your blush.

“…Thank you,” she whispers and her petite hands affectionately clasp your arm that’s still around her.


	7. Wraith X reader: Nostalgia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt where wraith knew reader before the fog. angst ahoy for this one!

“Stop! Don’t hurt her!”

Philip looks down at your distressed face, angry tears forming in the corners of your eyes and your face splattered with blood that isn’t yours. You’re standing between Philip and the botanist, and he hears her soft cries from where she’s laying immobilized on the ground. Your arms are outstretched, trying to block him from getting to her. Protecting her.

* * *

He remembers when he first saw you in a trial. He couldn’t believe his eyes, he never thought he’d be able to see you again, and he eagerly started making his way over, smiling brightly though it wasn’t visible through the cloak.

And then he remembered this wasn’t like before. You were no longer two lonely people accidentally finding solace in each other. You were a survivor now, and he was a killer.

His heart aches for you. You never deserved this, you were the light of his life, so much better than this place. Now you’re stuck in an endless cycle of violence and death, and it’s going to break you, consuming your soul piece by piece. It’s not fair, not right. He can only take small comforts in seeing glimpses of the other survivors protecting you, joking with you, taking you in as their own. At least you have someone, even though he wishes it was him.

All this time, he kept a distance. He knew you didn’t recognize him; the mud on his face, the tattered clothing, the unnatural glow in his eyes, his distorted body, all courtesy of the Entity. He looked nothing like himself, like before. And he was glad for it, glad you wouldn’t have to see him like this.

* * *

He looks at your frightened but determined face. Your hands are shaking even as you stand unmoving, shielding your friend. He could never bring himself to hurt you, and it looks like you’ve picked up on that fact.

He takes in the familiar details of your face, never having had the guts to approach you before you, just now, threw yourself in his way. Even with the blood, dirt and torn clothing, you’re still just as beautiful as he remembers. His heart clenches as he looks at your lips; chapped and dry but still so kissable. He used to always fantasize about tasting your lips, whenever you were spending time together and your tone was playful and his voice was soft. He regrets not making a move, because now he’ll never have a chance to.

There’s a clump forming in his throat, chest constricting from the emotions bubbling up. He rings his bell, startling you, before vanishing with a whoosh and walking away and trying not to look back at your surprised face. He doesn’t care about the trial anymore, too sentimental to try to deny your request. He sits in a corner and softly sobs into the fabric of his cowl while you and the botanist and your two remaining teammates make your escape.

Is this the Entity’s way of torturing him? Having you here, reminding him of what he can never have? Of the monster he’s become?

* * *

The Entity, displeased with his effort in the trial, doesn’t give him a moment of rest, shoving him into trial after trial until he’s too exhausted to feel sad. The motions are automatic; track, swing, hook, repeat.

He doesn’t know how many trials he does on autopilot, but then you’re there again, and the fog around his mind clears some. He does his best to ignore you, chasing the others and taking a wide berth of the generators he sees you repairing. But it doesn’t work.

“Philip?”

Your voice snaps him out of the trance, his eyes flying wide open. He whips around, seeing you right behind him, thinking he hallucinated hearing the name, but you’re real, you’re there and you’re looking up at him with… worry?

“Is it really you?” you ask, your face full of sorrow and your bottom lip trembling, eyes shining with sadness.

Philip swallows back a sniffle. He doesn’t know how you found out, but he never wanted you to. You’re sad and disappointed, and he can’t even say anything because his voice is raspy and distorted from the Entity’s abuse. He turns around, bell in hand, going to cloak and run away again—

“Don’t,” your hand is on his wrist right as he cloaks, grasping firmly, like you’re scared he’s going to disappear. He’s frozen in place, completely invisible, but your grip grounds him. “Don’t go,” you say, pleading. He can’t bear to turn around, not strong enough to see your hurt face. There’s a million things he wants to say, but none will make the situation any better. He’ll just end up hurting you more.

“I know what happened,” your voice says. “With… with Azarov.” you swallow. He tries not to start shaking, the guilt overwhelming. “It was all over the papers. And now, here, the Autohaven maps—" you falter. Of course you’ve pieced together the puzzle; you always were way too perceptive for your own good, he remembers with both fondness and sorrow. “I… tried to get hold of you, but nobody ever heard from you again.” He frowns; why would you have tried to find him? He is a murderer, no better than the foul man who used him as an unwilling executioner—

Philip chokes on a sob. The hurt is almost too much to bear. This is the furthest thing he wanted for his life, for you. What a cruel fate.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks out, not recognizing his own voice—it’s ruined, just like him. He notices your hand falter, before you’re moving in front of him, looking up at him, searching for his face. He’s glad you can’t see him.

“It’s not your fault,” you say, wetness in your beautiful eyes. And then you’re wrapping your arms around him hesitantly, searching for his body. He’s paralyzed from confusion as you find his torso, leaning your head against his chest and squeezing him in a tight hug.

His invisible hands hover, not sure how to react. Why aren’t you pushing him away, telling him what a monster he is? You’re hugging an otherworldly creature, a camouflaging predator, but you don’t seem to care. When you start sobbing into his chest, his heart clenches and his arms wrap around your shoulders of their own accord, his only instinct to comfort you.

“I love you,” you cry, painful sobs wracking your body. “I promised that I’d tell you, if I ever got to see you again. I’ll love you, no matter what happens.”

Philip can’t believe his ears, but his heart basks in the words, the words he’s wanted to hear from you for years and years. He bends down to hold you tighter against him, hot tears falling from thin air and landing on top of your hair as he sobs.

He wants to say it back, but he can’t, he doesn’t deserve this. Still, he allows himself to cry with you, hugging you close.


	8. Steve X reader (NSFW): Blowjob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nobody:  
> not a single soul:  
> my brain during rem sleep: gib steve succ

You're not entirely sure how you ended up in this situation.

You'd been walking around the woods with Steve, on an errand for Claudette to find some medicinal herbs. Then he'd made a joke about thinking you were hot, you’d responded with something of a similar nature, and then you both kind of paused and went “Wait, what?”.

And now you have him pressed up against a rock, sitting on the ground with his legs spread wide while you're on all fours above him. Your mouth is on his and your hand sneaks down to ghost over his dick through his jeans.

Steve is so eager, inexperience shining through in the way his lips fly against your unhurried ones and his hips raise to grind his cock against your palm. You smile into the kiss and push your spare hand against his hip, shoving him back down while keeping up the teasing touch.

You persistently continue the leisurely pace of your lips, trying to coax him to take it slower. Steve doesn’t seem to realize, instead responding by trying to deepen the kiss, and you pull away to deny him. He looks at you, bewildered and confused and even panting a little bit, but you just smile in encouragement.

“Slow down, baby,” you murmur affectionately, placing an innocent peck on his flushed cheek. You don't want to tease him too much, but you need him to realize you're in control here. Steve swallows audibly and nods in understanding.

“Good boy.”

The praise leaves your lips without a second thought, and his breath hitches while his eyes widen in surprise, taken off guard. You use the opportunity to lean back in for another kiss, and this time he lets you take the lead. You kiss him sensually, going much slower than he did before, and he mirrors the action, a little hesitant at first but gaining confidence as he keeps going.

You reward him by firmly palming his neglected dick through his pants and he moans into the kiss. He's so hard already, his dick firm against your hand, straining against the rough fabric of the jeans.

Steve gasps into the kiss and his hands tighten into fists on your back, pulling at your shirt. He could rip the fabric for all you care, all focus on making his beautiful body sing for you.

You keep up the pressure on his dick and the sensual kissing, nipping his bottom lip when he can’t keep up. You can see he's struggling to stay focused, lips pausing against your own every time you press or squeeze his erection firmly.

When you start thumbing against the head of his cock, finding it through the thick fabric, Steve lets out a beautiful whimper and one of his hands hurries to grab yours, yanking it away from his groin. You pull back from the kiss to look at him.

“What's wrong?” you ask, searching his face for any signs of discomfort.

“I was gonna cum in my pants,” Steve explains with a sheepish grin, face going even redder from the confession while he breathes heavily to collect himself.

You smile at the confession and resist the urge to ‘aww’ at him, not wanting to come across as patronizing. He's clearly pent up, and you’re just happy he had enough self-control to stop you so you can get to the main event.

You place one last peck on his full lips before shuffling down his body to get a better view of his crotch, your hands going to unbuckle his belt as of their own accord.

“Is this okay?” you remember to ask him, glancing up at him.

Steve is looking down at you, lust-blown eyes wide and chewing his bottom lip nervously, even fidgeting a little.

“Yeah,” he says only a heartbeat later, hips raising just the smallest bit, maybe unconsciously, to encourage you.

You smile and get right back to work. The belt comes undone and so does the button of his jeans, and then you're pulling down the zipper.

“You wanna sit on the rock? Make this easier,” you suggest, fighting your own eagerness to see his naked cock.

“Okay,” Steve breathes, a little shakily, and raises himself up. You move with him, his crotch at eye level, until he's sitting on the rock and you're kneeling between his legs.

“Perfect,” you murmur, squeezing his thigh affectionately before finally, finally pulling his jeans and underwear down. Steve lifts his hips to help you, excitement clear in his actions. Even if he's used to taking the lead, he's doing so well following yours.

You only pull his pants down enough for his cock to spring free, and then your hands and thoughts come to a complete halt.

God, what a nice cock. He's so hard and so wet, the glans glistening and a string of pre dripping from his slit that you waste no time leaning down to lap up.

The action earns you a surprised gasp, and you shove your own lust to the side and look up to once again search his face.

“You, uh, you don't have to,” Steve says, his trembling voice and dark eyes doing nothing to hide how much he wants this.

“But I want to suck you so bad,” you confess, hot breath fanning against his cock making him shudder. “Can I? Please?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve swears and his hips stutter under your hands. “G-go ahead.”

Wasting no time, you sink back down to kiss at his dick, wetting your lips from spit and pre and sinking down to pop it into your mouth and—

Jesus, fuck, he's _big_ , you realize when your lips are forced obscenely wide around his head. You hadn't noticed at first, just happy to have him naked and not worrying about his size, but now the thick length is forcing your jaw open and you can't help but moan right along with Steve above you. Who knew he was packing?

Steve lets out a broken whine when the head of his cock bumps against the top of your mouth, hips grinding up to try to fuck up into your mouth. You gag a little at the intrusion in the back of your throat, forcing your muscles to relax and pushing his hips down to hold him firmly in place. On another occasion you would have been happy to let him use your mouth as he pleases, but it's been a while since you did this and your gag reflex will need some practice. Hopefully this won't be a one-time thing.

Your nose soon bumps into soft skin and coarse hairs and you're actually relieved he's on the shorter side, not sure you would have been able to take him further. He fits perfectly in your mouth, head resting against the back of your throat while you pause to collect yourself and your throat muscles work to get used to the intrusion. Steve pants and whines and a trembling hand comes to rest in your hair, but he tries to be good for you and not thrust into your mouth. You appreciate his effort.

He's so thick you feel your airflow cutting off, forced to pull back to let some oxygen into your lungs. The thought turns you on beyond belief, images flooding your brain of choking on his cock and being split open by it when riding him. God, he'd feel so good inside you.

Steve whines and twitches and you remember you have a job to do. ‘Next time,’ you decide as you start bobbing your head along his shaft, next time you're hopefully getting speared on his cock.

You slowly move up and down his shaft, getting used to the girth and movement. Steve's moans are music to your ears, and you spare a glance up at him, seeing his eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth is hanging open in pleasure. His entire body is tight like a bowstring, muscles clenching and unclenching as he tries to control himself.

Part of you would like to savor the moment, to tease him to the edge over and over, but it's drowned out by your affection for him and you decide your number one priority is making him feel good.

So you pull back a little before going to town, squeezing your lips together and sliding over his head, back and forth, and Steve _screams_ , a surprised shout up into the night sky as his hand grabs onto your hair and pulls _hard_.

You moan brokenly around his cock, a hand wrapping around his shaft and the other grabbing his hip and pulling him towards you, encouraging him to fuck up into your mouth. All hesitation is gone as he complies, too far gone to feel self-conscious, moaning and whining as his hips snap up into your mouth, your hand ensuring he doesn't go too deep.

Your own blood rushes south at the obscene slip and slide of getting your mouth fucked open, jaw aching and relishing in his sounds and the salty pre leaking onto your tongue.

Steve's pace starts becoming sloppy, hips stuttering while the head of his cock swells even wider, and you know what's about to happen even before he says it.

“Fuck—ah, coming!” Steve manages between groans, and you appreciate the warning even though you just moan louder and squeeze his leg in encouragement.

Steve whines and yanks at your hair and then there's hot cum gushing into your mouth and you eagerly catch it all with your tongue, swallowing when he has no more left to give. He's still shallowly rocking into your mouth, so you flatten your tongue against him, slowly and gently licking up the rest of his release. He gasps shakily, sated and sensitive, but lets you finish your task before finally pulling away and leaving your mouth empty.

“Holy shit,” Steve breathes, the hand in your hair loosening to rest awkwardly on the top of your head while he looks down at you kind of stupidly, like he can't believe what just happened.

“Hope you liked it,” you smile up at him, licking some spit and god-knows-what from your wet lips.

“Uh, _yeah_?” he grins and snickers a little dopily. “That was awesome. No one's ever—” he falters and clears his throat self-consciously.

What the—did you hear that right? Nobody has ever given him head before?

“Well that's a shame,” you say, standing up to give him a peck on his cheek. “You were so good, and you have a wonderful cock,” you murmur fondly.

He blushes and smiles sheepishly under your warm gaze, and it makes you want to do unspeakable things to him. What else has he been missing out on?

You see Steve hesitate a little, before leaning in to capture your lips. You're happy to respond, following his lead this time, slow and deliberate and much more confident than before. He experimentally laps at the seam of your lips and you realize what he's after, obediently opening your mouth and letting him lick into yours to taste his own release. It would be a lie to say it’s not hot as fuck, and you moan into his mouth while he shyly explores yours with his tongue, showing that he's not as vanilla as his inexperience initially had you believe.

“Harrington! Y/n!?” echoes through the woods and you both pull away, whipping your heads to look back in the direction of the campfire where the voice is coming from. You recognize the voice as Yui's, and you're not about to let the woman get an eyeful of half-naked Steve.

“Steve! Your pants!” you hiss and Steve springs to action, jumping up to stand on shaking legs and frantically pulling up his pants, almost getting his junk caught in the zipper, while you go stand a respectable distance away from him, feebly trying to smooth out your wrinkled shirt and wipe the dirt off your knees. Steve just manages to buckle his belt when Yui walks into view.

“Hiya, Yui!” you try to greet nonchalantly. “How's it—”

“ _Ugh_ ,” she interrupts you with a disgusted scoff, turning around on her heel instantly.

“Err… Yui? You okay?” Steve asks.

“Hurry it up! Claud's almost done brewing the styptic!” the biker calls over her shoulder, power-walking back in the direction of camp.

“How the hell did she know!?” you whisper to Steve, turning back to face him in confusion. Steve looks equally confused, in addition to a little embarrassed, before he chokes on a laugh upon seeing your face.

“What?” you ask, wiping at your cheek. Steve bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, bringing his hand up to your face and wiping something off your chin. When he holds his hand up and displays the dollop of cum for the world to see, you feel your face go white.

“Oops?” Steve grins goofily, not the least bit apologetic.


	9. Ace x f!reader: Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluffy tumblr request of ace and s/o playing hide and seek in a trial. somehow ended up as reader being an immersed gamer ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“You want to do it now?”

You glance up from rummaging through your offerings to look at Ace. He's smiling wide and there's a mischievous glint in his eyes, kind of like whenever he tries to get one of the others to play poker with him—oh, right. You’d made a bet a few days ago. 

* * *

“The killers are so blind!” Ace had laughed when you both managed to escape another trial, you without even taking a hit.

The others sometimes made jokes about your sneakiness, claiming your ‘blending’ abilities were rivaled only by Claudette. This particular trial, the Pig had been visibly annoyed, completely ignoring Ace after the last gen got done and only focused on finding you, muttering something about ‘losing her fourth stack’.

“I run into you several times each trial. You’re not that hard to find,” Ace continued, taking a good-natured jab at your skill to stay out of sight.

“Because I don't actually _try_ to hide from you?” you argued, raising an eyebrow. “Wouldn't find me if I did,” you added, challenging. And you should have known Ace never backed down from a challenge.

“Wanna bet?” the man grinned. “You manage to avoid me an entire trial, you win."

“Oh, you're _on_.”

* * *

It took a while for the opportunity to present itself, as you'd been thrown into trials either separately or with some of your more serious teammates. You're pretty sure Laurie would have kicked your asses for slacking off, and you didn't want to set a bad example for the new girl, Cheryl.

But now, you're waiting by the pre-trial campfire for the Entity to pick which killer it wants to torture you with, taking in the sight of a yawning Quentin and a grinning Nea loading her flashlight with batteries like it was a lethal weapon. You figure this opportunity is as good as any.

“Hey, guys,” you start, getting the duo’s attention. “You mind if we fuck—"

‘ _Around_ this trial’ would have been the rest of your sentence, but Nea interrupts you by bursting into laughter and Quentin makes a disgusted face.

"Oh my fucking god,” Quentin visibly cringes, glaring at Ace. “Dude, keep it in your pants.”

“If you would let the lovely lady finish,” Ace starts with a smirk. “She was about to ask if we can use the trial to settle a bet.”

“With hide and seek,” you add before they get any more lewd ideas.

“Go nuts,” Nea quips and Quentin just shrugs with a “Whatever”.

You return your attention to the task of choosing an offering, settling for a reagent to increase the mist. When you go to throw it into the fire, you see Ace fiddling around with something, his back turned to you.

“Are you bringing _bond_!?” you squawk, grabbing his hand and yanking his sleeve up to display the familiar aura-reading twine wrapped around his wrist.

"No, no! These are… bracelets! All the rage, back in my day—” Ace hurries to explain, gesturing animatedly with his other hand. The movement causes some cards to fall out of his sleeve.

“ _And_ open-handed!?” you demand, hands on your hips.

“Oh my, how did those get there?” Ace feigns ignorance, kicking the cards under a log. You bite back a laugh at his cheating antics, at this point knowing better than to expect him to play fair.

“Guess that means you're scared of losing,” you say, a smirk pulling at your lips as an idea forms in your head. Predictably, Ace immediately perks up, taking the bait.

“In your dreams, princess,” he says, puffing up his chest. “How about we raise the stakes? No perks.”

You hesitate for a moment. Spine chill and urban evasion have saved your ass on countless occasions, but since you were only going to be hiding from Ace and not the killer… how hard could it be?

“Deal.”

* * *

When you fade back to consciousness, you’re standing by the Thompson house. You’ve spawned right by a generator, but instead of getting to work, you make your way towards one of the outside walls of the trial, crouching down to hide with a good view of two of the closest generators.

Soon enough, you see Ace make his way over to the machine you were just by, pushing through the corn and glancing around. Not seeing anything, he seems to frown before kneeling down to start his repairs. You snicker to yourself and start sneaking to the other generator, keeping an eye on Ace the entire time.

Halfway through your repairs, you hear Nea’s pained scream of taking a hit somewhere within the trial. It seems like she’s keeping the killer busy.

As soon as you hear Ace’s generator pop, you duck down and start making your way along the trial wall. You flatten yourself against a tree when you see Ace approaching, before he disappears into the pallet gym your nearly finished generator is at. With the wall blocking the crucial line of sight, you seize the opportunity to bolt away, the sound of your footsteps drowned out by the machine. You hear him opening a locker and scoff at the action; like you’d make such an amateur mistake.

Another gen pops, apparently Quentin’s handiwork, while you cut through the cornfield. You run into Nea, being chased through the corn, and quickly dive out of the way and crouch in a row of stalks as the killer—the Wraith, good to know—follows, not far behind her. Predictably, he doesn’t see you.

By the time you get to your destination, the second story of the house, Ace has gotten your generator done and Nea has been hooked and unhooked. The killer is once again chasing her, and from your vantage point you can even see her repeatedly clicking the flashlight in the Wraith’s face while looping the cow tree.

The generator on the balcony hasn’t even been started, but you’re waiting for Ace and Quentin to finish theirs first, working on a machine together in the corn right below the balcony.

Ace’s back is turned to you and he keeps glancing around, trying in vain to spot you in the field. Damn, if you'd only brought diversion into the trial, you would have thrown a pebble at him to confuse him further. Feeling cocky, you lean over the railing and wave down at the two instead. You see Quentin glancing your way with a smirk, before looking back at the generator.

“You need some glasses, old man,” you hear Quentin snark.

“Huh?” Ace says, getting his wires crossed and making the machine explode as he whips his head around to look at the house, but you’ve already ducked down safely behind your generator. You wait for the duo to finish their repairs and disappear in the direction of the shack before starting the generator in the house.

* * *

When your generator pops and the exits gates get powered, Nea is just about to be death hooked, and hearing her final scream, you feel a little bad when you make your way to a corner of the map instead of pressuring an exit gate. But soon enough, you spot Ace running to the house to try to catch you leaving after your repairs, proving your hunch was correct—he’s so predictable, bless his heart. A little while later, you see him come out of the house and look around in confusion, but then you hear Quentin’s pained scream and Ace seems to sigh and utter a curse before running in the direction of a gate.

You try to find the hatch but have no luck, and then you hear a screech as one of the massive gates slides open, followed by Quentin’s wail as he finally goes down. You spot his prone aura by the shack, before it disappears into thin air; huh, guess he managed to crawl out.

Now knowing which gate is open, you start walking to the other, a little on edge not knowing where the killer is after losing his last prey.

To your surprise, Ace is pulling on the other exit gate’s lever, effectively ruining your plans. You start making your way back towards the shack, taking a detour to avoid the killer's patrol route between the gates.

You're a little nervous Ace is going to get found, taking an unnecessary risk in getting both gates open. If he gets caught, you're throwing your little game and saving him, the bet be damned. Though it's not going to be easy, with Nea dead and Quentin out and neither of you having any perks. Even though you’ve known the entire time this dumb idea was likely to get both of you killed, thinking about Ace getting hurt still makes you uneasy.

Exit gate now in sight, you carefully look around for any signs of the killer. The Wraith could just be standing still in the exit, completely invisible to the naked eye. Even if he was there, you could just run out and take a hit in the back before escaping, as you know from Quentin’s chase he doesn't have NOED. Still, you'd rather not get injured at all.

There's no telling shimmer in the gate, so you decide to just go for it. You walk into the structure, and nothing happens. You're nearly out when you hesitate, turning to look back into the trial; what if the Wraith has found Ace? What if he comes out of nowhere, grabbing Ace off of the exit gate lever since neither of you has spine chill and—

There's footsteps right next to you and you try to whip around, but then someone is grabbing you from behind and your heart leaps into your throat as you let out a startled yelp—

“Gotcha,” Ace's voice whispers in your ear. The relief floods over your body even as you shove at him playfully, making him let go of you with a chuckle.

“Fuck you! You scared the shit out of me!” you argue even while your face is splitting into a grin.

“You're not the only one who can be sneaky, doll,” Ace quips, returning your grin with a self-satisfied smirk.

“What are you even doing here? I saw you at the other gate!"

“Ah, the old bait and switch," Ace chuckles. “I wanted to get both gates for you, so you didn’t have to risk the killer finding you. And then it was only a matter of luck! A classic 50/50,” he grins.

Damnit, what a stupid and dangerous and—  
…Kind of romantic…  
—and unnecessary and idiotic stunt!

“Get over here,” you say, yanking him closer by his shirt. “I missed you,” you mumble softly, hands wrapping around his neck as the surprise makes way for familiar affection.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” he says, eyes softening and a hand wrapping around your waist, the other coming up to cup your cheek. “I missed seeing this cute little face,” he says, pecking your nose sweetly. “You avoiding me wasn't nearly as fun as I'd imagined,” he jokes, but there's a tinge of uncertainty in his voice.

“If it makes you feel better, I basically stalked you the entire time,” you murmur, leaning your forehead against his and a hand scratching at the baby hairs on his neck. “Though I almost threw a rock at you at one point.”

He chuckles at the confession, a warm puff of air in the space between you.

“Can't take your eyes off of me, eh?" he grins.

“Not when you're being so oblivious and adorable,” you murmur.

“Well, I clearly underestimated you," he admits, and is that a little blush you can see on his cheeks?

“Likewise,” you smile. “So, what do you want for your prize?”

“Oh I'll think of something, don't you worry,” he wags his eyebrows suggestively and you roll your eyes from the corny gesture. “But here's your consolation prize,” he says, finally leaning down to capture your waiting lips.

You eagerly respond to the kiss, moving your lips against his while your heart flutters from the affection, even moaning a little when Ace pulls you even closer against him. It’s all so familiar; the scratching of his goatee, the way he playfully nips at your lip, the scent of his cheap cologne lingering even after all these years stuck in the realm. You don't even mind losing the bet, not when you get to be in his arms and kiss him silly.

But then Ace is suddenly pulling away, lifting his head up to look back into the trial over the top of your head.

“I think we have an audience,” Ace says and you glance over your shoulder, his arms still around you.

There's a slight shimmer just beside the exit gate where the Wraith seems to jolt from surprise. A small pause later the familiar bell rings, and then you have an embarrassed killer in front of you, looking at the ground and sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. You just stare at him stupidly, a little ashamed over being caught making out in the exit. How long has he been standing there?

“Hey bud, thanks for letting us goof off this match,” Ace is thankfully speaking so you don't have to, but the words manage to confuse you. Was the Wraith in on it? You genuinely thought you'd been able to hide from the killer the entire time, especially since he was so focused on Nea.

The Wraith looks up bashfully, nodding his head and shuffling his feet. Then he pauses, points at you and then Ace, and makes a heart shape with his hands. Ace barks out a surprised laugh while you blink owlishly, and the killer hurries to leave, ringing his bell and the sound of his footsteps scurrying away from the exit.

“Looks like we have a fan,” Ace muses, turning to look at you again. You smile up at him and you’re just about to lean back in for another kiss, when a realization hits you.

How did Ace know the killer was there? You saw him take off spine chill before the trial, and he hadn't even flinched like the perk usually makes you do when the killer is looking at you. Unless…

“Did you bring premonition!?” you realize, and now Ace _does_ flinch a little from being caught off guard.

“So, err, remember when you said some perks are so bad they shouldn't even be considered perks—” Ace hurries to make excuses.

“You little shit!” you exclaim in mock offense. “You cheated! No prize for you!”

“Aww,” Ace whines and honest to god _pouts_. “Fair enough. Damn, and I only did it to keep you safe… oh well, still worth it,” he mumbles defeatedly, mostly to himself.

“Ugh, fine, get back here,” you grumble, pulling him into another kiss to stop him from moping because it's breaking your heart. 

When Ace just chuckles against your lips, you realize you've been played. Instead of snarking at him some more, you take advantage of his open mouth to shove your tongue down his throat and relish in the way his laugh turns into a needy groan.

And next time you're bringing the goddamn pebble, rules be damned.


	10. Myers X reader (NSFW): Plaything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> myers filth for a request. warning for rough sex and dubcon elements!

You're standing in front of the coal tower, looking up at the sky where the last of your teammates is being sacrificed to the Entity, its massive claws pulling Claudette’s limp body into its clutches. The shame from letting your friends down is drowned out by anticipation as soon as you spot the killer looking at you from behind some trees, his white mask a stark contrast to the darkness of the MacMillan grounds. He's watching you.  
  
You know the drill by now. You turn around, pretending not to see him, half-heartedly glancing inside the building to make it look like you’re calmly searching for the hatch despite your heart racing in your chest.  
  
There's footsteps behind you and soon you're pushed against the cold brick wall of the tower, a hard body pressing against your back and heavy breathing in your ear through the cheap latex of the Shape's mask.  
  
You obediently spread your legs, biting your lip to suppress a whimper of arousal, more than on board with being pounded into the wall. The killer seems to have other ideas, picking you up and throwing you up on one of the large spools surrounding the building without so much as a grunt of effort. Your hands scramble to find purchase against the wood, your body sliding forward on the worn material and some splinters embedding themselves in your palms.  
  
As soon as you're able to raise yourself up on all fours, your jeans are being carelessly pulled down by rough hands. The killer only yanks them down to your mid-thigh, just enough to expose you to the cool air of the trial grounds. You hear a zipper being pulled down and grab onto the ledge of the spool, trying to anticipate what's to come.  
  
But there's no preparing for the blunt head of a large cock plunging into you by force, and you let out a scream as your hole is spread wide. You're thankful you had the foresight to slick yourself up with the vegetable oil from your toolbox, as it might not be the most hygienic but you know from experience the killer will shove in dry if you give him a chance.  
  
Myers doesn't understand foreplay or just doesn't care, all his efforts focused on reaching his own orgasm every time you’ve done this. And that's exactly what you signed up for, not regretting it even now when his balls meet your thighs and his cock spreads your insides to their limit.  
  
He gives you no time to adjust, pulling his hips back and quickly snapping them forward, setting a rough pace that's almost too much for you to handle, your eyes squeezing shut and moans mixing with pained whimpers. He's using you as a glorified cock sleeve, no regards to your comfort as he keeps fucking you against the harsh wood that's now starting to tear your jeans and making your knees bleed.  
  
Shame spreads over you when you imagine the others finding out. You're betraying them in the worst way possible, especially Laurie. You can perfectly picture the hurt and disgusted look on her face if she caught you. The humiliation that overwhelms you turns you on even more, knowing that what you’re doing is beyond fucked up but too far gone from the pleasure to care.  
  
Myers is completely emotionless as he keeps ramming into you, roughly grabbing your waist to keep you in place and no doubt leaving bruises. You know you're not allowed to look at him during the act, so you close your eyes and imagine sweat beading under the mask and a mouth that you've never seen twisting into a snarl as his breathing starts getting even heavier.  
  
You can feel him approaching release and you know that if you want to have any chance of orgasm you need to take matters into your own hands. So you sneak your hand down to touch yourself, moans rising in pitch as you get some much needed relief on your aching sex. Myers doesn't react and thankfully doesn't protest, keeping up the brutal pace of his thrusts.  
  
It's difficult to keep the position, your arm straining from the effort of holding yourself up. But you're so close, feeling the familiar heat pool in your gut while the Shape keeps fucking away, his cock stroking your insides in just the right way.  
  
Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere and you come with a wail of his name, your shaking arm finally giving up as you slump down tiredly and your hole clenches down on Michael's cock.  
  
There’s a grunt of protest, the first reaction he’s showed during the entire time, as he yanks you back up with a strong grip around your neck. He keeps his hand on your throat, making it difficult for you to breathe, while starting to slam in even harder than before, desperately chasing his climax.  
  
Tired and overstimulated, you can do nothing but claw at his hand and gasp for air, forced to be his fuckdoll for as long as he wants. You hear a hiss and then he finally releases, shoving himself impossibly deep and cock pulsing as he fills you with cum.  
  
In an instant his hands and cock are leaving you, your boneless body sprawling out on the wooden surface and your hole gaping as you feel some of his release trickle out. Your eyes close on their own accord and you feel on the verge of passing out, your heartbeat drowning out the sounds of Michael zipping his clothes back up.  
  
You let out a tired whine when you’re hoisted up on strong shoulders, your pants still pulled down and exposing you for the world to see. You don't care, you got what you wanted and now you don't even mind if he hooks you or stabs you to death.  
  
You dangle tiredly on his shoulders for what feels like minutes as he has apparently decided to search for the hatch. You manage to open your eyes when you hear the eerie sound of it, just in time to see the ground rapidly approaching as the killer carelessly flings you into the trap door.  
  
You let out a pained yelp as your forehead smacks against the latch and your knee bumps into its side, but then the trial fades from view and you see the outline of the campfire in the distance.  
  
You know he doesn't care about you, having no qualms to hurt you even when going out of his way to spare you. He feels absolutely nothing for you, and you should be horrified that he only sees you as a tool to fulfill his own needs.  
  
But you both know you'll be back for more.


	11. Ace X reader (NSFW-ish): Strip Poker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> saw a fan art of strip poker ace on tumblr and had to write a little drabble for it

You’re not quite sure how you’d managed to end up in a situation like this. You’d barely gotten back from a trial before Ace was right up in your face, insisting you “go on a walk” together to “hang out”, and you should have probably realized something was up.

But you hadn’t, and now you found yourself shoeless and missing a sock in the middle of a game of strip poker with the infuriating man.

“Aww, so close!” Ace said, revealing a flush of spades to easily win over your two pairs and costing you yet another article of clothing.

“Cheater,” you grumbled half-heartedly, removing your remaining sock and carelessly chucking it somewhere over your shoulder. It wasn’t like the Entity wouldn’t teleport it right back for your next trial.

“Come on darling, nobody likes a sore loser,” Ace teased while quickly shuffling the cards with decades worth of experience of the game. “I’ll even let you deal if you want!”

“Nah, I’ve got this,” you shot back, not about to give up this early in the game. You still had plenty of clothes left, and Ace’s luck was bound to run out eventually... right?

“That’s the spirit!” he grinned in approval.

Funnily enough, it seemed your newfound determination paid off, managing a straight the next round while Ace only got three kings.

“Nice work!” Ace commended while you tried not to gloat over the small victory. You watched as he unlaced a shoe, setting it to the side before repeating the action with the other.

“You know you only have to take off one, right? I did,” you pointed out in the fairness of the game.

“Just spicing things up, cutie pie,” he winked. “Evening the odds makes it more exciting.”

Well, if he wanted to screw himself over by being overly cocky, you weren’t going to stop him.

“Suit yourself,” you said instead, eagerly accepting the dealt cards as you were now only two losses behind.

Tragically, the cards weren’t kind to you, and you ended up with close to nothing when the round was over.

“Shit,” you sighed in defeat, revealing your meager hand of two nines, already starting to unzip your jacket.

”Would you look at that! Looks like I lost!” Ace interrupted, immediately folding his hand in surrender.

“Uhh… what?” you asked, regarding him skeptically as he hurriedly went to unbutton his jeans. You watched, half mortified and half amused, as he struggled to pull off the pants, one of the cuffs getting bunched up and caught on his ankle.

“You know you could have just taken off a sock,” you pointed out, quirking an eyebrow. Is that why he was so adamant in removing the shoes, so he could get his pants off right after? “Or the cap, or shades, or—”

“Shh, don’t question my strategy!” Ace exclaimed, a mischievous grin on his face as he finally managed to free his trapped leg and discard the jeans. He sat back down on the log, now only in socks and a jacket and shirt that barely covered his knock-off designer briefs.

Your gaze definitely lingered on the area longer than you meant to, absently picking up the cards Ace flicked your way, and nearly failing to suppress the surprised gasp when you finally took in the hand you’d been dealt. With three tens right off the bat, you only needed either one more ten or a pair for four of a kind or a full house. You had a high chance of winning this, but you had to keep a straight face so Ace didn’t get suspicious.

You watched as Ace placed the deck between you and glanced at his own cards, before pausing to look at them longer than usual. You had no idea if that meant his hand was good or bad, biting your lip to stop yourself from telling him to hurry it up and let you win already.

“How about we make this interesting?” Ace suggested, finally addressing you.

“I’m listening,” you said, not taking your eyes off your cards as you tried to keep your face neutral.

“All or nothing,” Ace proposed. “I’m feeling pretty good about this hand.”

You hesitated for just a moment. Your hand was good, but was it _that_ good? What if you only ended up with two pairs again?

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Are you scared?” Ace prodded, an annoying smirk spreading over his lips.

“Not a chance,” you huffed, rolling your shoulders and fixing a determined glare on him. “Bring it on.”

To your delight, you managed to turn the three of a kind into a full house like you’d hoped, drawing a pair on your last turn.

As you laid your cards out for him to see, you regarded Ace’s face curiously, and felt the nerves resurface when his expression remained carefully neutral upon looking over your hand.

“You really think that’s enough to beat me?” Ace then smiled victoriously, your breath hitching in your throat as he went to display his winning hand—

Of a pair of sixes.

“You’d be correct!” Ace exclaimed, a huge grin on his face upon taking in your shocked expression.

“What the—did you even have _anything_ when you made the bet!?” you asked incredulously.

“Nope!” Ace chirped. “And looks like I’ll also not be _wearing_ anything now,” he smiled good-naturedly despite the embarrassing loss, shrugging off his jacket.

Still not believing you’d actually managed to win against your lover’s notorious luck, you sat there kind of stupidly, staring as Ace folded the jacket and laid it on top of the log. Then, finally, he took off the ugly baseball cap he constantly insisted on wearing “for luck”, flinging it off to the side and carefully running a hand through his hair to smooth out the hat hair.

When nimble fingers started working on the buttons of his shirt, you were feeling a little hot under the collar from the show he unconsciously put on. So you decided to join in, moving to kneel between his legs while your hand grabbed his, interrupting the unbuttoning halfway.

“Let me help you with that,” you murmured, looking up at his smiling face that didn’t seem the least bit bothered by your interruption.

“What a graceful winner you are,” Ace quipped with a smirk, leaning down to capture your lips.

And the smile never left his face, not during the sensual kiss or when you pulled his shirt open and ran your hands over his exposed chest, and definitely not when said hands snaked even lower and were eventually followed by your mouth.

Because Ace had been playing a completely different game, and if this didn’t count as a win he sure as hell didn’t know what did.


	12. Hillbilly X reader: Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> b-day gift for a friend who loves the hillbilly, pure fluff rated T for brief mention of child abuse.

It starts just like any other of your frequent visits to the realm of Coldwind farm.

You’re sitting silently on top of the harvester together with Max, which isn’t at all unusual. Talking isn’t necessary in situations like these, both of you happy to just be near each other and enjoy the closeness and companionship, watching the cornstalks swaying from an imaginary breeze.

But it doesn’t take you long to notice that something is wrong.

Instead of slowly relaxing in your company like usual, Max seems more stressed than you’ve seen him in a long time. He keeps fidgeting and glancing around, sometimes taking a deep breath like he’s about to say something, only to deflate in defeat a few seconds later.

Safe to say, hiding his emotions has never been Max’s strong suit. You always try to let him go at his own pace, but at the seventh disappointed sigh, you decide it’s time to intervene.

“Max?” you break the peaceful silence to gently urge. “What’s wrong?”

Your hand, as on its own, comes up to rest on his good shoulder, not wanting to irritate old injuries. The contact seems to make Max stop fretting at least momentarily, meeting your searching eyes.

“’M nervous,” Max confesses without hesitation, always so much more earnest than any other person you’ve met.

“It’s okay. You can tell me,” you encourage, putting more pressure on your hand on his arm to remind him that you’re _there_ for him, after all the years he’s suffered alone.

Max takes another deep breath, but this time he’s not giving up, instead turning around to grab something over the railing of the harvester. Before you have time to ask, he re-emerges with a crudely wrapped package in his hands and turns back to face you.

“ _Happybirthday!_ ” he hurries to croak out, ducking his head in embarrassment while shoving the package towards you.

“Birthday?” you ask, confusion spreading through you. “But my birthday isn’t even—”

You pause. ‘Isn’t in several months’? How exactly would you know that? With no signs of the passing of time in this world, you can’t exactly claim it’s _not_ your birthday, either.

Especially not with Max now looking at you with sad puppy eyes.

“Stupid, stupid—” Max starts, pulling the gift close to his chest and curling in on himself.

As if expecting a beating from his long-dead father.

“NO!” you yell, the force of it startling you both. “You’re not stupid,” you hurry to add, gentle hands coming to rest on top of his callused ones clutching the gift.

“But you said…” Max starts, self-doubt replaced by curiosity, letting you carefully pry his fingers away from the package.

“I didn’t know it was my birthday until you reminded me,” you explain, shooting him an encouraging smile. “Did you get me a gift? That’s so kind of you.”

You bite back the ‘You really shouldn’t have’, not inadvertently wanting to send Max into another panic, knowing he’s still learning the nuances of the English language.

“It’s not a real birthday without gifts,” Max explains bashfully, shoving the package into your hands.

The gift is lighter than you expected, gently grabbing the bundle with both hands while carefully inspecting the wrapping. It’s some kind of cloth, not unlike the rags you’ve seen Max use to clean his chainsaw. The fabric is loosely held in place by thick rope and what you assume is supposed to be a bow on top, but looks more like a mess of knots, already starting to unravel on their own.

You can vividly imagine Max feebly trying to tie a pretty bow on the gift like he’s seen in old movies, and the thought makes your heart swell from affection.

“Come on. Open it!” Max urges, face twisting into an expression you’ve come to recognize as a wide grin.

Max is glancing between you and the package like an overeager puppy, not seeming to be able to decide whether he wants to see your reaction or the gift being unwrapped. You can’t help but wonder if he’s ever given a gift to anyone before.

…And then promptly feel a piece of your heart shatter once you realize he’s probably never even received one from anyone before.

You only need to hook a finger under the rope for it to come apart. Letting the rope fall to the harvester floor, you slowly lift the cloth away to reveal a flower wreath.

“Oh!” you exclaim in surprise, carefully lifting the item up to inspect it.

The base is made from sticks, forming a thick and slightly uneven circle with stray ends poking out in all directions. But the top of the wreath is what really catches your eye, decorated with fresh flowers of several different kinds and colors.

Despite some of the flowers having already wilted and the majority missing a few petals, the wreath is probably the prettiest thing you’ve seen since coming to this strange realm.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, looking up at Max who somehow smiles even brighter, thrilled that you enjoy his gift. “Did you make this?”

“Ya,” Max says eagerly, happy at the praise. “But some o’ the flowers… they broke,” he adds hesitantly.

“It’s _perfect_ ,” you reassure, knowing how gentle he must have been to not ruin the delicate plants altogether.

“And the flowers—where did you even get them?” you ask, carefully placing the crown on your head, not caring in the slightest that it’s a little too heavy and that a few of the sticks tickle your scalp unpleasantly.

“Clodet,” Max explains, still struggling with his delivery on some names, but getting his message across nonetheless.

Ah; you should have guessed. The botanist is a gentle soul, also one of the few survivors who didn’t oppose your relationship with the killer.

“Thank you so much for the gift. It’s beautiful,” you say earnestly, smiling up at Max.

“Y-yer…” he starts with a raspy voice, before pausing and clearing his throat. “You’re more pretty.”

It’s probably something he’s heard in a cheesy black and white romance movie, but you don’t care, cheeks heating up while your smile widens even further. A stupid giggle slips free from your lips before you can stop it, Max never failing to make you feel like a giddy, lovestruck teenager.

Even Max recognizes the laugh as one of affection and not mocking, returning a sappy smile and the tips of his ears going red. Emboldened by your reaction, he brings his hand to rest on top of yours in a rare display of confidence.

For a moment, you do nothing but stare at each other, each with a silly smile on your faces, enjoying the closeness.

And then, you remember something crucial.

“So…" you start with a mischievous smile. “When do you want to celebrate _your_ birthday?”


	13. Felix X f!reader: Coffee Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a fic i originally wrote for a friend who loves felix <3 also tried to do felix's pov so i apologize if it reads weird!  
> no warnings for this one & rated G!

Felix sighs in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose to try to fight the beginning of a headache.

Looking back at the unfinished e-mail on his laptop screen, he feels the all-too familiar signs of stress, an unpleasant rush of adrenaline running through his body. He's _supposed_ to have the week off, but of course idiot clients don’t seem to understand the concept, practically spamming him with braindead questions and having resulted in an overflowing inbox even over Christmas.

“Felix,” a gentle voice pipes up from the doorway to his office. It manages to pull him out of his negative thoughts, and he watches as his girlfriend approaches him with a mug in her hands and a knowing smile on her face.

It’s funny, he thinks, how the tension immediately starts to seep out from his body upon her proximity. Normally, he can’t stand being interrupted while he’s working, as his colleagues would no doubt testify to in a heartbeat. But with her, it’s always been different; an anchor in the storm of navigating his responsibilities and battling his anxieties.

“I brought you some coffee,” she explains, offering him the steaming cup. “Along with a reminder that we promised we wouldn’t work this week,” she adds, gently scolding.

“Funny you should mention that,” Felix says as he accepts the welcome distraction, the smallest smirk tugging on his lips despite trying to keep his expression neutral. “As I seem to remember _someone_ crawling into bed at four in the morning last night.”

The accusation makes her tense up, eyes going comically wide from surprise at having been caught, as if Felix wouldn't know her bad habit of staying up studying into the early hours of the morning. He also knows that he has no room to talk, seeing as they’re both workaholics and perfectionists, but somehow, it's always been much easier to tease each other than confront their own unrealistic standards.

"But my paper—" she, predictably, tries to explain.

"Isn’t due for another two weeks,” Felix reminds. “We said no work during the holidays. If you cheated, so will I," he adds with a gentle smile and takes a sip of his coffee. 

Cream and no sugar, just the way he likes it. Of course she would remember; seemingly having made it her mission to learn all his strange little habits and showing more consideration than Felix thinks anyone ever has.

Her sheepish laugh snaps him out of his melancholy thoughts, and as she proceeds to update him on the progress of her paper, Felix finds himself smitten all over again. Ever since the first time they met, he knew he’d found a kindred spirit from the way she talked about her academic passions. Felix’s knowledge about anything that isn’t architecture is rudimentary at best, but he enjoys hearing her talk about hers, something nostalgic that reminds him of his childhood in a family of doctors.

"Anyway," she says, seeming to notice him spacing out. "You should at least take a break."

Sometimes, Felix envies the ease with which she reads social cues, but mostly it just makes him thankful. After all, he’s the one who gets to share his life with her, and he still wonders how he ever managed to catch the eye of someone so kind and genuine, not to mention incredibly smart—

“Break or no dinner,” she teasingly threatens when she reads Felix’s silence as defiance.

—And so damn stubborn, he mentally adds and tries to suppress a smirk.

Felix closes the laptop in defeat and gets up, taking the mug with him, the beverage warming his perpetually cold hands.

“I guess we're even now,” Felix says, placing a kiss on the top of her head in a gesture of peace. “Any specific plans for today?”

It's already getting dark outside, the mid-winter German weather not allowing much daylight. Thankfully, neither of them are particularly outdoorsy people.

“Not really, but I thought we could watch a movie?” she suggests, easing herself into Felix's embrace, her touch immediately warming him ten times more than the hot coffee.

“That sounds wonderful,” Felix murmurs affectionately, wanting nothing more than to sit down with the love of his life and forget all of the world's expectations of them both.

She flashes a beautiful smile, her warm eyes lighting up with genuine joy even after all this time. He still can't believe that she's this happy just to _be_ with him, the one thing in his life that he can always count on to pull him back down to earth and remind him of what's important. He briefly wonders if they have time for a quick kiss—

“I'll go heat up dinner!” she exclaims instead, making Felix silently huff in amusement.

He follows her downstairs, making himself comfortable on the couch in the family room and turning on the TV to browse through the catalogue of the streaming service while drinking his coffee.

It quickly becomes evident that he can't focus, project deadlines and a million unanswered e-mails back to running through his mind on an endless loop.

But then he turns to watch his partner from the doorway to the kitchen, and seeing her flitter about preparing their meals, his resurfacing worries fade into the background. She's stirring the food on the stove and humming a tune Felix doesn't quite recognize, and the domesticity of it all reminds him of what's important. She not only keeps him on his feet, making sure he doesn't drown himself in work, but also makes his house feel like a home.

And soon, the meal is done and Felix is no closer to picking a movie.

“Guten Appetit!” his girlfriend says, handing him a generous bowl of pasta.

Felix is still so touched that she would try to learn his language, and her pronunciation is getting better day by day.

“Danke schön,” he says, accepting the dish. “It looks delicious.”

"Your turn to pick the movie," she's quick to change the subject, just as terrible as him at accepting compliments.

"I couldn't find anything. You can choose," Felix says, blowing on the steaming food. He doesn't have the heart to say he's once again so overwhelmed with work he couldn't even make such a small decision.

"Okay, but no complaining if you don't like it!" she teases but thankfully doesn't push the subject.

She ends up picking a superhero movie of some kind and as the opening credits play, Felix digs into his meal, trying and failing to eat the pasta in an elegant way.

Felix imagines how his business associates would react if they saw him like this, hunched over in his sweatpants, stuffing his face with leftovers in front of the TV on his expensive leather couch.

But the food is great and the company even better, his girlfriend laughing at a silly joke in the movie and her laughter warming him just as much as the rich flavors of the dish. She always wants him to be as comfortable as possible, both when it comes to his clothing and strange quirks, and he couldn't be more grateful to have such a considerate partner.

When they finish their meals, Felix makes the executive decision to take their dishes into the kitchen and load them in the dishwasher, needing to contribute with _something_ , always feeling guilty for his terrible cooking skills that make it hard to return the favor of a home-cooked meal.

“Thank you," his girlfriend says nonetheless, like his pathetic gesture actually _is_ enough.

Swallowing his self-doubt, Felix sits back down on the couch and is thrilled when his partner immediately shifts closer. They silently settle into an embrace, Felix wrapping an arm over her shoulders, her curling up against him, laying her head on his chest and absently stroking a hand over his sweater. 

Felix tries to refocus on the movie but it's proving difficult, his gaze wandering to her soft and slightly messy mop of hair and beautiful face glued to the screen. They shouldn't fit together this well but they do, even though Felix is much taller than her, but it only makes it easier for him to envelop her in his arms.

“Something on my face?” she asks, and only then does he realize she's been looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

There's a brief moment of panic of being caught staring, Felix thrown back to the times when girls in middle school would call him a quiet weirdo, before he catches himself and remembers he's no longer an outcast.

At least not with her.

“Sorry,” he still apologizes, turning to finally watch the movie, not wanting her to think he's bored when he's far from it.

And then there's a fleeting touch against his cheek, so incredibly careful, and Felix happily returns his attention to where he actually wants it. He sees hesitant eyes searching his, and is reminded that he's not the only one who is a nervous mess even after all this time.

Feeling bold, he leans down to kiss her without any warning, gently cupping the back of her head and running his fingers through soft hair.

It's slow and sensual and no matter how often they do this, he'll never grow tired of it. Their lips move against each other, unhurried in their motions, making a warm wave of affection spread through Felix's body. Sometimes he feels like he's stealing her warmth, her kind eyes and bright smile overshadowing his cold blue ones and the fake smile he has to put on every day for work.

But still, she sees something in him, something Felix spent years of his life trying to bury. The awkward nerd who never learned how to make friends and who was always so heartbreakingly lonely.

And somehow, _that's_ the Felix she fell in love with; not Felix Richter, the renowned architect and heir of the family fortune.

Felix pulls apart just the tiniest bit, his neck protesting a little from bending down to her level, but he doesn't care, needing to verbalize his feelings.

“I love you,” he murmurs, lips brushing against hers.

“That's my line,” she says, her lips turning into a smile that Felix can't help mirroring. “I love you so much, you big dork.”

“I'm not the one who picked a superhero movie,” Felix quips back, not usually one for quick-witted banter but being with her, all his walls seem to break down.

“That's what you get for giving up your turn,” she teases, giving him one last peck. “Now come on, let's watch the rest of my dorky movie.”

They settle back against each other, and at the first sign of a shiver from his girlfriend as the chill of the night starts to set in, Felix wraps a blanket around them.

Which turns out to be all kinds of adorable, because when he pulls the blanket up to his shoulders, it's high enough to cover her eyes. There's some faint cursing and tugging underneath the blanket, and when she finally emerges with a half-hearted glare aimed his way, Felix can't help his chuckle.

“Sorry, darling,” he apologizes through snickers, gently petting her hair while she huffs in mock offense.

“You're lucky you're cute," she scoffs, shifting fully into his lap, now sitting taller and able to lay her head on his shoulder.

Felix hums in acknowledgement but not in agreement, knowing she's much cuter than anyone has the right to be, but he doesn't protest, instead leaning his cheek on the top of her head.

Relaxing against her and feeling her warmth against him, Felix is hit by the sudden realization that he feels _calm_. He doesn’t fight it when his eyelids start feeling impossibly heavy, drifting off into a peaceful sleep, knowing he has everything he ever needed right in his arms.


	14. Zarina x reader: Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a cute dream about zarina and it made me realize how pretty she is! naturally, i had to write something with her <3  
> no warnings for this chapter, rated G.

In the Entity's world, you can never take anything for granted. The rules and locations of the realm are ever changing, forcing its inhabitants to adapt.

But there's one thing you know for certain, a constant that stays the same no matter the Entity’s influence.

Zarina Kassir is beautiful.

Her narrow face, sharp features and determined eyes that see through any bullshit. Her petite frame, hiding incredible resilience and proving she's not to be underestimated.

But it's never been purely shallow. It would be easier, if it was.

It's her willpower, her drive to do her absolute best even in the direst of circumstances. It's how she never leaves anyone behind, going as far as to make herself vulnerable to help others. Using her wits and experience to take any edge over the horrible monsters hunting her and others. It's her unwillingness to give up, dead set on finding a way out, brushing off gratitude by claiming she was just doing the right thing.

All the while never sparing anyone's feelings.

“I was finishing my gen—” Ace tries to reason after the latest trial gone wrong.

“ _No_ , you were rummaging through the basement chest," Zarina interrupts sharply, hands on her slender hips. “I have kindred; I saw you, you moron.”

The gambler flounders for an excuse under her scrutinizing stare. Next to you, Feng snickers at his misery.

“Oh, don't even get me started,” Zarina accuses, turning to face the gamer, her messy bun bobbing with the motion. “We would never have been in that situation in the first place, if you hadn't tried to greed for a lost generator.”

“It was 99!” Feng protests.

“That's no excuse,” Zarina says, crossing her arms covered by a camouflage shirt, the pose highlighting her exposed midriff. “Getting grabbed off a generator next to the hook is what cost us the win.”

“I think you're just salty that your sweet honey-poo got camped to death,” Feng snarks, shooting you a not-so-subtle smirk.

Zarina's beautiful face morphs into a scowl as she glares at the woman, and it’s enough for you to decide to step in.

“It's okay, babe,” you say, standing up from your seat to come up beside Zarina. “It was an unlucky trial; let's just forget about it.”

She sighs, but instantly seems more relaxed, her defensive posture softening as she leans into you just the tiniest amount.

“If you say so,” Zarina relents.

It's touching how she always stands up for you, even when you think there's no reason to. It's just one of the many reasons you fell for her in the first place.

“Come on, let's go,” you encourage, gently grabbing her hand.

“Alright,” she says, her serious face breaking into a small smile as she meets your eyes.

Zarina starts to tug you along to the edge of camp, her warm hand clasping your own.

Not for the first time, you realize how incredibly lucky you are to get to call her your girlfriend.


End file.
